


Say You're Sorry

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Anal, Dacryphilia, Dirty Talk, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, SM Scene, Self-Lubricating Cardassians, Spanking, Whipping, didn’t think i’d write that tag again but here i am, fluffy aftercare, handjob, it’s the crying-kink apparently!, last time it was vulcans now it’s cardassians babey!, which btw i didn’t know had a name until recently
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Because this doesn't have a plot, it's just a really long sex scene, I have no idea what to put for a good summary [nervous laughter]Just: please read the tags, you'll get the idea. And read the endnotes for behind-the-scenes thoughts, as usual ! Enjoy !





	Say You're Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-upload from my old account that I have deleted. The work upload was originally on November 17, 2018, and I have left it untouched so it is exactly as it was.

It takes a tense second after Julian has rung the door-bell before he is let in by the affirmation of Garak’s voice. The door slides shut behind him quickly, Julian moves out of the way and across the floor to stand in front of Garak. He’s sitting in the middle of his sofa, not looking up from his PADD at first. 

They exchange a short, planned conversation with two sides to their meaning:

“You’re late, my dear. Did you forget what time it was?” _Did you forget the safeword, Julian?_

“No. I wanted to stay and chat with Miles, so I did.” _I do remember._

Julian recollects it immediately: it’s ‘ _country matters_ ’. Julian had chosen it without outside protest.

 

Garak looks up at him sternly. “You disappoint me, Julian. Here I am, waiting for you after a long day - and you choose to repay my patience with an excuse like that?”

Julian was, in fact, not late. He had been itching to leave his quarters, to go to Garak’s and begin what he had been excited about for well over a week. Julian masked that. It wouldn’t fit the scene for him to be visibly excited at the prospect of Garak starting an argument with him. He opted for an apologetic look to go with his next statement:

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Garak puts away the PADD that he had been pretending to read before Julian entered, creating a tense pause before turning his indignant eyes to Julian again. “That won’t cut it. I’m going to need more than a simple, _insincere_ apology from you, Julian. Atonement is not a hollow promise like that. Do you even remember what I’ve taught you about atonement?”

Julian’s voice is so very small: “I - I’m sorry, Garak.”

Garak makes a loaded sigh. He utters a single command: “Undress.”

 

It wouldn’t be a surprise to anyone who had ever talked to Garak for more than half an hour that he would be a born thespian. The silent, clinical restraint with which he observes Julian as he strips is as natural as though Garak was watching Julian arrange lab-samples. 

Garak was well aware of Julian being halfway hard from just Garak’s words and the anticipation leading up to this, and once Julian was bare it was obvious to anyone. Julian sees how he looks at him in a slightly too long silence, in that silence Garak’s trenchant gaze lingers on Julian’s still-hardening cock, judging. 

 

Julian plays the part and hunches his shoulders a little, he moves the placement of his hands so that he is self-consciously covering himself by clasping his hand over his other wrist, using them to press his treacherous cock back against his hip a bit. It is a poor attempt at hiding his shame, Julian knows it and gets only more excited inside at the knowledge that Garak will chide him for this. He hangs his head in faux shame, waiting for the inevitable moment when Garak speaks up again.

 

“Oh, Julian. You poor soul, you can’t even strip in front of me without being turned on. This is part of your problem. You are going to have to be honest with me, Julian: have you been having inappropriate thoughts about me again?”

Julian doesn’t meet his eyes. “… Yes.” He utters, his voice as small as how his character feels in the moment. The faux shame almost feels real as he explores the role, making it more Julian the longer they progress.

 

Garak does search for his eyes with his own. His voice is entirely dispassionate: “Have you been touching yourself while you had these inappropriate thoughts, Julian?”

“No.”

“If you’re going to lie to me, we’ll never be able to fix you. I told you to be honest with me, so try again: Have you been touching yourself while you had these inappropriate thoughts?”

“… Yes.”

 

Garak had been watching him, stone-faced and quiet for a loaded moment before he straightens his spine. He has his hands folded in his lap, but no more, he removes them to lay by his sides, freeing his lap. “Come here, lay yourself down.”

 

Julian knows what that means. He kneels on the cushion beside Garak so that he can lie with his face pressed into the sofa, his fists bunched nervously under his chin. His hips lay over Garak’s thighs, his cock slotted into the gap between Garak’s legs so that it is imprisoned, impossible to touch with ones hands, it is only touching the texture of Garak’s pants: velvet. The thousands of fibers move as Julian moves even the slightest with his respiration. 

Garak had deliberately chosen to wear those, Julian knew. He knows it’s going to be torture to try not to rut against that warmed fabric, to catch the head on the folds in a desperate attempt for release. And they’ve only just started. Julian is no longer just semi-hard.

 

You cannot stage a scene with your partner on a whim, they both knew that, so Julian and Garak had talked it over and picked a date for them to be doing this. Parts and such were agreed upon, making sure both knew what they’d be expecting of each other. 

But for Julian, there was no knowing in what ways Garak had planned to move the evening along. They had only been musing over fantasies - some involving Julian getting spanked with only the power of Garak’s hands. Another of Julian’s wrists tied with ribbons pulled from Garak’s shop’s display(a fantasy requiring a semi-public exhibition in the late hours in the shop). Yet another of Julian gradually being rendered helpless, tied from feet to neck, blindfolded and a silk band holding his tongue back as Garak punishes him however he wants; with a cat-tails whip, a Cardassian ridged strap, or his cock. They had another non-verbal safeword just for that scenario.

But there was no telling what Garak would use on Julian for his punishments tonight.

 

“What I’m going to need you to do for me, Julian, is tell me all that you’ve done and apologize for them to me. Where would you like to begin?”

 

Julian breathes in before answering. “I’m sorry I was late…”

 

All air is pushed from him for a handful of seconds each time Garak strikes him, hitting his flat palm to Julian’s rear and immediately drawing it back for a sharpening effect. Julian’s words are caught in his mouth, his toes curl up as his entire body tenses.

 

“You know you shouldn’t let me wait just so you can hang out with your friends, so why did you do it, Julian?”

“I just wanted to talk for five more minutes with Miles, I’m sorry.”

“I think you knew it would make me upset and you still did it.”

 

Julian’s silence was taken as a ‘yes’ and Garak strikes him again twice for that, each blow ever so slightly harder than the last. “I’m sorry! _I’m sorry!_ ”

 

“And earlier today: you were being deliberately rude, testing me at lunch.”

“I’m sorry I was rude to you at lunch…” Julian pauses, earning him another smack and a pained yelp.

 

They had planned that they were doing this scene tonight night so Julian had kept it in mind when they had been at lunch earlier the same day. He had been even more brazen than usual in their literary discussions, aiming to give the eternally-polite Cardassian some substantial material for later in the evening. However, Julian had only been pushing it to a realistic degree; the most important part of their game was the believability of it. If he had said the things he had on any other day, Garak would have taken it as plain flirting.

 

“That’s not good enough. I need to know that you understand why you shouldn’t be doing what you did. What was it that you did, Julian?”

“I’m sorry I doubted your knowledge, Garak, I shouldn’t have questioned you on your knowledge of 22nd century Hebitian çriytal poetry, I’m sorry —“ Julian’s voice comes out muffled from his close proximity to the cushion beneath his wet lips and so Garak cuts him off with a slap that makes Julian’s muffled whine heard. 

In the next moment, Julian’s face is no longer pressed to the fabric of the sofa, his hair is pulled by Garak’s free hand, yanked up high and fast enough for a yelp to die in Julian’s throat. “I couldn’t hear you over your pathetic sobbing in the pillow, now: repeat yourself word for word.”

“I’m sorry I doubted your knowledge, Garak! I shouldn’t have questioned you on your knowledge of 22nd century Hebitian çriytal poetry! I’m sorry!” Julian’s voice comes out clear, fueled by adrenaline in a rush to move on, to do something that will earn him another slap from Garak’s hand. 

 

But it doesn’t come, Garak just holds him up there, fingers firmly grasping the longest parts of Julian’s hair by their roots. 

“And those thoughts you said you’ve had about me. What do you have to say for yourself about them?”

“I’m sorry I had dirty thoughts about you.”

 

There is no slap this time either. Julian’s skin tingles in a wave of anticipation for something that doesn’t come. Garak even lets go of his hair so that Julian can dump his face back into the cushion. He waits for Garak’s words.

 

“And what were you thinking of, Julian?”

 

Julian spits his words out as if he would die if they were not voiced. “I was thinking of you, bending me over your measuring-table, and -“ yet he stops in another attempt to be stricken.

It is not fruitful. Garak merely urges him on: “Yes, and?”

“And you fuck me mercilessly, and I’m screaming like I am right now for you to keep fucking me -“

 

Garak strikes him once, twice, thrice in succession and Julian is back, he feels gratified again.

 

“And what else are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry I touched myself when I thought of you, Garak -“

 

Julian can now feel that Garak has been gradually working his way up the scale of pain, as the slap that followed Julian’s words contrasts his first by so much. By now, Julian is gripping the upholstery, every time it slips from his clammy fingers he takes another handful. He is so close to biting down on it.

 

“Did your thoughts make you come, Julian?”  
“Yes, Garak, and I didn’t just do it once, I did it many times.”

“How many times since your last lesson, Julian?”

“Six times, I did it six times!”

 

In a sudden stillness, Garak’s hand doesn’t make contact with Julian’s skin. A cool shiver runs through Julian’s body, his breathing is the loudest sound in the room. 

 

“Get up.”

 

Julian gradually curls himself into a standing position and Garak gets up too, his entire appearance seemingly unaffected. Julian does notice that his pants have a small stain of glistening wetness over his thigh-area, right in the spot where precum had been teased out of Julian’s cock. That same cock jumps at the thought of Garak noticing and punishing him further for defiling his finest pants. But they were going one punishment at a time, it would have to wait, Julian forcibly stilled his hungry thoughts.

 

The hand that Garak had previously used to grip Julian’s hair does so again, pulling him up into a straighter posture with a pained whimper from Julian’s tight lips. 

He is not dragged away so much as lead roughly to one of the arm-rests of the sofa. When Garak’s hand lets go, there are no brown locks falling from his fingers. It’s not that kind of scene. And it never would be, as Garak couldn’t live with himself knowing that he’d done something like that to Julian’s irresistible hair.

 

“Bend down.”

 

Julian knows what this means, too. His lower abdomen is over the arm-rest in seconds, the weight of his body on the sofa once again, his legs are stretched out behind him so that his ass is up and shown plainly to Garak, presenting its redness like a prize. Julian is painfully aware of his cock being re-positioned to now press down against the armrest, equally trapped as before but now slightly less noticeable to Garak if Julian chooses to rut the aching away.

Garak walks up to Julian’s face, getting him to turn his head to look. He’s holding a Cardassian ridged strap in his hands, showing it to Julian for the briefest moment before walking back behind him, just long enough to say _here’s what I’m going to do to you_.

 

The Cardassian ridged strap immediately spoke to Julian the first time he stumbled upon it in the databanks; it was an archaic tool for punishment originally used exclusively by Guls. It was no longer practical for warfare or contemporary torture, it only served as a device for enough pain to get your heart racing without breaking the skin, by way of its detailed, ridged, leathery texture on one long, broad strap attached to a handle. It mimics a dark tail made of Cardassian scales, Julian chuckled to himself upon realising. The object had since come up in intimate conversations with Garak.

 

So Garak had replicated it earlier in the evening. He never forgets when Julian tells him about a fantasy. “Now, Julian, you just count aloud for me for each whipping that you receive. Can you do that for me?”

He awaits Julian’s nodding which Julian does eagerly and is accompanied by a very quick ‘Yes’.

There is a fiery moment of silence in the air before the heavy sound of the strap slices through it, shooting through Julian’s ears and his scream. He nearly forgets to say the number aloud. “One.”

He is immediately struck again. “I need to be able to hear you, Julian! Count aloud!” Garak yells now, the thrill of his raised voice causing Julian to immediately respond with his own yell: “One!”

Julian can almost hear the self-satisfied smirk behind him before the strap licks Julian’s upper thighs this time. The area is new, sensitive, and elicits a different kind of choked scream from Julian’s throat. “Two!”

 

Garak chooses to focus on those temporarily unblemished thighs, dedicating the next lashing in the same area. “Three!” Julian has had tears forming in his eye-corners for a while now, they are no longer restricted to just his corners as his cheeks feel wet after another bite to his thighs. Yet at the same time, with each infliction made on him, Julian’s entire body bucks forward, making his cock slide around, reminding him sweetly of his inevitable release.

Another body-melting jerk forward. “Fo —“ the vowel trails off into nothingness, it has no rhotic ending as Julian sobs through the word. He hears Garak’s footsteps come nearer, the next thing he knows, his neck is grasped by a hand, cool against the burning sweat of his skin. Garak has kneeled, he forces Julian up to look him in the eye, Julian blinks through his tears as he breathes to feel that hand around him better. It’s not clamped down on his windpipe in a deadly attempt on his life, it’s only teasing with the ghost of it and that works for Julian because he feels his neglected cock stir from the second Garak has his fingers on him, finally some skin-to-skin contact again. 

 

“I won’t accept any half-answers. I thought you knew this already, Julian. Now; where did we leave off?”

“… Four.” Julian’s voice sounds breathy in the position Garak holds him.

 

Garak drag out the moment, a blink, a tut and a condescending smile before he even speaks: “No, no I don’t think so. I think we were only at ‘one’. And count properly for me now.” Garak holds Julian’s desperate eyes for a moment before he lets his neck go again, followed by a whine escaping Julian’s free throat. 

 

Garak is behind him in seconds and he doesn’t laze around with the strap because it comes down harder now on Julian’s raw thighs, his sobbing cry louder this time. “One!” Julian shouts but he almost hasn’t finished the syllable before the next lashing and Julian knows he has to keep up. Garak goes at a relentless pace, he strikes him again and again as Julian cries out the numbers fast, and they’ve finally made it up to six before Garak halts. 

 

Julian’s tensed body shivers as he waits for the next step. He knows his ass and thighs must be a sight right now, striped with dotted lines from the strap and reddened all over. He knows Garak is appreciating the sight in that moment. 

And Garak is indeed appreciating the image of Julian’s spent body, he hadn’t been fully everted for nothing ever since he had begun working on Julian’s cheeks. He’s grateful Julian has his back to him for more than one reason. 

 

Julian lays trembling still before his shoulder is seized, Garak yanks him up into a dizzyingly quick standing position, his feet are unsafe beneath him. Garak does so to press his entire body to the back of Julian’s, his stinging cheeks make contact with that velvet-clad cock and Julian’s breath is caught by both the pain from his ass and the familiar feel of Garak’s cock on him. If he could just move, just grind into it, Julian would be in heaven. 

 

The hand around Julian’s throat returns, driving him up straighter from his windpipe down to his spine. “In these fantasies of yours; how was is that I took you again?” 

“Not just - not just on the table… On your bed. On the floor. Me, kneeling before you - Anywhere, I wanted you to fuck me anywhere, Garak —“ The other hand begins to free the still-clad cock that Julian pauses to mourn the loss of contact with. But once it’s back, it’s now Garak’s free, slick cock against the cleft of Julian, instantly making him whine with impatience. 

“Is this what you want, Julian?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Garak presses down harder as Julian squirms against him.

“Yes, I want this, Garak, please -“

“I told you to say it _loud._ ”

“Yes, I want this, please fuck me like this, Garak!”

 

There’s an icy moment in which Julian fears that he has walked into a trap, that Garak’s character wouldn’t let him just get the treat as easy as that. He is lead away from that thought as Garak uses a hand to guide himself inside, his other hand still stroking Julian’s bare throat that moans directly from his lungs. Garak slips in un-characteristically gentle, his length and width right at home inside of Julian and he settles inside comfortably, not moving. Julian is dead quiet for a few seconds.

 

“How is it that I fuck you, then?” Garak’s whisper is harsh against the shell of Julian’s ear.

“You’re rough - you’re fast … Please, just move, Garak —“ Julian’s plea is quickly answered as Garak pulls himself out almost all the way in one rapid movement just to drive back in with a force that shuts Julian up. 

 

The pace is as Julian has set it, rough and relentless, with Garak’s ridged hips making full contact with Julian’s abused skin in just the way the real-life Garak knows he likes it; it aches with every thrust as if he is still whipping Julian. He has to grip the armrest with both of his free hands, fearing a tear in the fabric.

 

Julian is uncharacteristically quiet until Garak pulls out, completely removed and not seeming like he would ever re-enter, and Julian moans in a way that almost sounds like a confused complaint. He wishes he could turn around now more than ever, but he instead awaits Garak’s next move. 

“No, no - this won’t do. Not at all.” Garak drawls, knowingly tormenting Julian with his leisurely pace. Garak finally drags Julian by his shoulder again, bringing him a few steps into the livingroom. 

Julian doesn’t realize what Garak is going for until he opens his squinted eyes to see that, of course, they’re now standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror of the compartment. Julian can se his state at last, his reddened, wetted and painfully aroused body is clear in the mirror and enhanced by Garak looming behind him. He curls his arm around Julian’s torso again to restrict his movement, settling his fingers around his vulnerable neck, as always. Julian latches his own hands onto that arm, fondling the raised scales with his fingernails. 

 

Garak looks him in the eye through the mirror. “Now you’ll see, Julian, what it looks like if I were to fuck you like you want to, how desperate and obscene you look while I am doing this to you: then you can know what it is like and you’ll be able to move on.”

Julian breathes a wanting response in between his anticipating panting, a sibilant ‘yes’ just loud enough for Garak. He just wants Garak to slip inside again and keep his promise of fucking him. He almost grinds back but he’s cut off from doing anything as Garak begins to re-position his head by the entrance and pushes in. Julian watches those hips snap back and forth, he adjusts his own stance by spreading his taut legs a little wider for better access, and, oh, why can’t he just take his free cock in his hand and feel it all rush over him now - Julian struggles to be patient by picking at Garak’s scales some more with his itching hands, there’s a good reason why he’s got them around Garak’s arm in order to hold onto something that isn’t his own cock. 

 

“Please - touch me —“ Julian moans. 

“Not yet.” Garak’s voice is steely but it lights a bit of hope in Julian, his cock twitches at the new promise of being touched at some point. He smiles a little, looking at Garak’s eyes again, and drags out a relieved moan. Garak loves the human noises Julian makes when they’re in bed, it satisfies him to know that Julian knows what he’s doing. 

 

Garak is holding himself back, he only thrusts just hard and fast enough for it to feel good for him and especially for Julian, not hard and fast enough to come yet, he needs to build it up for as long as he can get away with. Garak turns them to watch from the side, deliberately slowing down. He turns Julian’s head with the hand he has around it. 

 

“See how easy I slip in and out of you - I’m beginning to think you’ve been fucked by someone my size before, Julian.” 

“No, Garak, never - never before you —“ None of Julian’s sentences end with a full stop as he moans the last out.

“Have you been using toys on yourself, Julian?”

“Hh … N …” Nothing coherent come out, but Garak understands perfectly, he pulls out all the way and uses his free hand to strike Julian once more over his still-red cheek. Julian’s yelp vibrates in his throat, Garak feels it through his other hand.

“Yes!”

“So you’ve been practicing without telling me. When you touched yourself thinking of me, did you use a toy to stimulate yourself with as well?”

“Yes!”

Garak lets his hand slide and rub over those abused cheeks, still looking Julian in the eye through the mirror. 

“You were pretending that it was me fucking you while you roughly fucked your own hole with some synthetic cock.” He strikes that cheek a few times in sequence, the sound of it mixing with those of Julian’s high pitched screams. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I won’t —“

Garak stills in order to immediately drive his cock back in with no warning, earning another cry that cuts Julian’s speech off. 

 

Even Garak is beginning to feel denied, he decides to throw Julian off and hold nothing back, it’s too much at this point already, too long since he’s come inside Julian, it should be criminal to be fucking Julian this long without coming inside him - and so Garak does finally, his entire cock twitches to a standstill while he huffs out some fast breaths into Julian’s ear. 

Julian, whose cock is painful to look at in the mirror, is taken into Garak’s hand in a moment that goes by so fast, Julian doesn’t register at first that his cock is being firmly stroked for half a second, so he screams at the contact and spasms after five quick pulls. Garak continues to stroke him through his devastating orgasm, all of Julian that is pressed to Garak shudders as he does, ending with Julian sinking his head down on Garak’s shoulder as he steadies his breathing.

 

Breathing. Pausing. Just a moment where the scene fades to black before Garak scoops up the pieces that are left of Julian, taking him to the bathroom where he had pre-planned the computer earlier in the evening to draw a bath a few minutes before. Garak’s tub is spacious and opulent enough for Julian to have wondered on many occasions just how it made it here to the station but nothing could be further from his drained mind at the moment when Garak lowers him into the immaculate water to dissolve. Garak then finally undresses himself in the bedroom and returns to slip into the water. 

 

Garak had been open about looking forward to the scene, but he had secretly been a little more excited about the aftercare: Julian had told him he could whatever he wished. That was a prompt of Garak’s tastes. He loved to groom and he loved to groom Julian even more, and to take his slack body and pull him somewhat upright in order to rub Tarkelean soap into Julian’s muscles, starting at the top and working down, giving special attention to the affected areas; that was truly the highlight for Garak. Julian was not saying a word, rather uncharacteristically, he merely breathed in deeply to savor the scent of Tarkelean herbs and groaned with delight when Garak went into a sore spot with his meticulous fingers. 

 

Now both clean and towel-dried, Garak insists with only a little outside protest on scooping Julian up in his arms once more, leading them to the perfectly-made bed to lay the slack body of Julian on top of the smooth bedspread, his back facing up. Julian truly feels like he could melt right off the satiny covers once Garak had returned with a jar of blossom-infused oil for treating damaged tissue, his expert hands coming back into use for the massaging-process. Julian had insisted before tonight that a dermal regenerator for aftercare was overkill, and besides, he liked to feel the reality of what had happened between them, even if it meant being sore and a little bruised in the morning. Also, it was a plus to give Garak another excuse to rub him down, now with this semi-scientific ointment. It did smell sweet and heady, fitting the mood, so Julian couldn’t care less. 

 

Once Garak has had his fun, Julian watches him through glossy eyes wipe his oiled fingers thoroughly in a hand-towel. Julian’s attention darts back to an instance from earlier in the night.

“Did you really not notice that I got precum on your thighs? I thought that would be a punishable offense.” Julian has got his head turned, his jaw can barely move with his words, but his sound is plenty amused.

Garak furrows his eyeridges, turning to look at the pants hanging behind him. His superior vision does spot the now-dried blemishes caught in the velvet. He swivels his head back to look at an amused Julian. “Odd, I didn’t detect those.”

“I thought nothing went past your vigilant, - one might even say, - _spying_ gaze.” Julian teases, getting Garak’s best eye-roll in return.

“I may have had an imbalance of blood-distribution of my head contra my lower regions at the time. That does tend to make one … Less vigilant.” 

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.” Julian mumbles with a self-satisfied tone.

 

Garak dismisses him with a tut-tut and changes into his nightwear. He wraps himself in his insulated duvet and tells the computer to shut off the lights, leaving Julian to fend for himself in the dark. He does get up, that is to say, up on his elbows, so that he can scoot over to flop his head on the other pillow and lay beside Garak. Julian is so warm in Garak’s quarters, he sleeps on top of the bedspread for now and still has his back facing up because he knows he’ll be groaning all night if he lies on it. 

 

The quietness thickens in the room comfortably and Julian closes his eyes, settling in with a sigh. He’s about to mentally prepare himself for a good sleep before someone from within a blanket-burrito near him mumbles: “I’ll have you know, you will pay for what you did to my pants in the morning.” 

 

Julian can’t help but smile even though he doesn’t think Garak will see it. “Sorry.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, I’ve given in and indulged in some of my more sadomasochistic kinks, and who better to use as my mouthpieces than those two dickheads amirite. Now get ready for a small essay to serve as end notes:
> 
> Yes, I started watching DS9 a few months ago and I LOVE IT. Severely underrated, beautiful, funny, it’s got so much of what I want to see in Star Trek, and that includes my newfound fascination with Cardassians. Gotta keep it real with you chief…..lizards hot lmao
> 
> This fic doesn’t delve into Cardassian anatomy as much as some of the two other Bashir/Garak fics I am currently writing will, and hopefully I can get those finished soon. (I still haven’t finished my last fic-project, which is just sad, but ehhh what can you do, “say la wii” or whatever. I hope I’ll find the incentive to finish my Cultural (Mis)Understandings series someday soon. Zefram and Solkar are probably the two Star Trek characters that are dearest to my heart.)
> 
> Also: from the (quite) many G/B fics I have read so far, it seems there is a fandom linguist here on AO3 called tinsnip who has provided writers with anatomical terms for Cardassian biology to be used in fics(the list can be found here on AO3 if you find their profile ofc). I love this kind of thing, and I do subscribe to a few of the terms(I think ‘ajan’ is a great word for the genital opening that I headcanon Cardassians to have, I also see some people using ‘sotl’ for everted genitalia, I’m alright with that, only I just didn’t use it for this fic. There are generally a lot of fandom-accepted headcanons I find appealing about Cardassians, especially when it comes to ideas of erogenous scales or self-lubrication, it’s all good).
> 
> HOWEVER. I will never. never. use ‘prUt’ to describe the Cardassian phallus. The primary reason for this, is that ‘prut’ is literally the word for ‘fart’ in my mother tongue - it could not possibly get any less sexy.
> 
> Secondly, as a an aspiring linguist, I will argue that there exists no sexy words with the consonants ‘p’ and ‘r’ in the onset. Prod? Pray? Prom? Prick? Prude? Probe? Prissy? Princess? None of these words are sexy!(at least not in my opinion. And I like for my words to be sexy, dammit!)  
> In fact, tinsnip’s suggestion for a more dudebro expression for one’s wang is Cho’Ch, which - is an improvement. But then again, anything is an improvement from fucking ‘PRUT’ ok end rant
> 
> Another note on language/glossary: “22nd century Hebitian çriytal poetry” is not a thing that has existed in any canon of Star Trek, I just made it up because it sounds good. Of course, Hebitian things exist, and “çriytal” is the Kardasi word for a death-ritual that occurs in their culture. Again, it’s merely aesthetics.
> 
> Just to round this mini-essay off, I want to give thanks to a fic that, if it weren’t for that fic, I would not have written this one. It’s called “If Wishes Were Horses, Beggars Would Ride” by vocal_fries and is the first G/B fic I’ve read that had a BDSM angle and, well, it awoke this idea in me and for that I am grateful !  
> and here is a clunky link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751041


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